


Day 14: Trimming the tree

by ConsultingPurplePants



Series: 25 Days of Fic-Mas (originally posted to tumblr) [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fairy lights are complicated, M/M, Trimming the tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingPurplePants/pseuds/ConsultingPurplePants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has no idea how to string fairy lights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 14: Trimming the tree

_Choose a spot to display your tree. There’s no wrong way to decorate a Christmas tree –_  
Sherlock snorts at his phone screen. There are many wrong ways to decorate a Christmas tree, and that is precisely what he’s trying to avoid. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he looks down at the blanket-wrapped tree in the entrance hall, then back up at the stairs for the hundredth time. He’d planned this out, even brought the blanket so that the pine needles wouldn’t get everywhere, but he’d forgotten (blasphemy) about the part where he’d have to drag it up the stairs. He half-wishes he hadn’t chosen to surprise John with this while he was at work.

It’s John’s first Christmas back at Baker Street since last year’s utter disaster, and he wants to make everything as perfect as he can. Including the Christmas tree. It had been cooperating before, but now… He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, then grabs the trunk and begins to pull, going up the seventeen steps backwards. Pine needles start to fall out the top of the blanket and all down the staircase as he goes, but he’s sure Mrs. Hudson will clean it up for him if he just smiles at her the right way. He gets the tree through the door of the flat and collapses back against the door, panting. He squints down at his phone screen again.

_Place tree stand in a watertight planter. The effect is more tailored than a tree skirt; it also creates extra room for presents._

He’s already laid out the suggested felt to protect the floor, and has rearranged their chairs to make room for the tree near the fireplace. He follows the rest of the instructions for the planter (he hadn’t trusted this Stewart woman at first, but after several experiments he has had to grudgingly admit that she knows what she’s talking about). The picture isn’t especially clear, but he manages to get the tree upright and counts that as a victory. He unwraps it from its blanket and allows the accumulated pine needles to fall to the floor. He glances around quickly, pushes them under the rug with his foot (what John doesn’t know won’t hurt him), then heads over to the desk to turn on his laptop, hoping for clearer pictures.

_Prune the tree. Norway and blue spruces are naturally symmetrical –_ he has a brief moment of panic. What kind of tree is this? Why didn’t he think to ask the man at the market? How could he _possibly_ have omitted this important detail? He’s halfway through attempting to google his tree when he realizes he’s probably being ridiculous and should just check if it’s symmetrical. He stands back ( _Study it from a distance to see which areas need pruning_ ), makes a mental checklist of pruning areas, then studies the image to see which he should start with. An hour later, he’s broken the kitchen scissors (must replace them before John notices) and is standing in a pile of tree trimmings. Another quick glance around reveals that he won’t be able to sweep these under the rug, so he huffs out a frustrated breath as he goes to find a bin bag.

That taken care of, he unearths his laptop from the leftover trimmings and clicks on to the next page. _String the lights._ Checking the time, he notes that he still has three hours before John gets home, which should be plenty of time. He’s already started preparing the next step on the sofa ( _Organize ornaments. Decide on a theme or palette…_ ), but according to Stewart, _lights should be added to your tree before other decorations._ He can see how he and John had gotten it wrong the last time they’d attempted this.

Following the illustration, he runs into his first problem about a third of the way up the tree. As he’s been looping the fairy lights around the ends of the branches, the other end of the string has been wrapping around his ankles. As he tries to go around the tree again, he finds his legs are now tied together. He rolls his eyes, then bends down to start trying to untie his legs. It’s rather tighter than he’d expected, and he starts wracking his mind palace for quick ways to get out of knots. It’s only when he realizes he’s going to have to do it the slow way that he notices his hands have somehow become tangled as well, and he’s now trapped in a net of brightly-coloured fairy lights. Panicking slightly (damn you, Martha Stewart), he tries to reach his hand out to unplug the lights lest John find him lit up like, well, a Christmas tree, but only succeeds in toppling himself over. He’s trying to sit up, cursing under his breath, when he hears the front door close. John. John is home early. John can’t find him like this.

With a snarl, he flops around the floor (unsuccessfully), frantically trying to free himself. He’s just managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position when John enters the flat, looking at Sherlock and the tree with something unfathomable in his eyes. Sherlock collapses back against his armchair, resigned to his fate.

***

With Christmas so near, Sarah had decided to surprise them all by giving them most of the afternoon off that day, so John is in a wonderful mood as he pulls open the front door. He’s about to call out to Sherlock to see if he’s home when something crunches under his boots. He looks down to find what looks like a carpet of pine needles leading up to their flat, and a sinking feeling settles into the pit of his stomach as he thinks of what experiment Sherlock could possibly be up to this time. For a brief second, he contemplates going for an incredibly long walk in order to avoid the disaster that their flat has probably become, but he hears a thump and yelp from upstairs and decides to go save Sherlock from himself.

“Sherlock?” he calls up cautiously. There’s no response other than an odd rolling sort of noise accompanied by a series of clicks, so he mentally prepares himself for what he’s about to find.

He pushes open the sitting room door to find a beautiful, perfectly-shaped Christmas tree set up near the fireplace. There’s what looks like an organized colour palette (red and gold) (what?) of ornaments on the sofa, and there isn’t a pine needle to be found. For a moment, he thinks he’s just being paranoid, but really, he should’ve known better. There’s another thump, and John looks down to find Sherlock sitting on the floor in front of his armchair, having somehow tied himself up with the fairy lights. It’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, and he feels his heart melt into a puddle in his chest.

“Sherlock?” he tries again. Sherlock looks up at him, helplessly tries to free himself, then collapses his head back down again. John swears he hears a muttered, _“This was supposed to be perfect”,_ but Sherlock immediately speaks up properly.

“John! I…” he’s clearly about to make some sort of gesture, but stops at the limits of his bonds and gives a weak wriggle of his fingers. “Would you…” The fingers wriggle again, pointedly.

John knows he shouldn’t laugh, but he can feel it bubbling up inside of him. He settles for a strangled, barely intelligible, “What were you trying to do, love?”

Sherlock looks like he’s struggling with himself instead of the fairy lights as he replies, “Make you a perfect Christmas.”

The puddle in John’s chest melts impossibly further as he takes in the forlorn expression on Sherlock’s face. “Sherlock, you don’t have to do that for me!”

Sherlock shakes his head, the only part of his body he’s still free to move. “I wanted to. Last Christmas was a disaster at best, so I wanted us to have a proper Christmas together.”

“As long as we’re together, it’ll be a proper Christmas, love. That’s all I need. I love you.” Sherlock’s eyes look a little damp at this, which makes John’s eyes look a little damp, so he makes a decision.

“Ok, I’m going to go over there and untie you, and we’re going to decorate this tree together, and it’s going to be amazing.” Sherlock smiles widely and nods, his fingers still wriggling hopelessly by his sides.

John starts to walk over to where the fairy lights are plugged into the wall. On his way, however, he trips over some sort of foot switch on the ground, and he’s not quite sure what kind of fairy lights Sherlock bought, but Sherlock starts flashing like a tacky billboard. The lights turn on and off in a cheery little pattern all around him, and the laughter that John had thought was under control comes speeding back to the surface. He laughs even harder when Sherlock loses the ability to glare at him and starts laughing too, and Sherlock really is the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He looks bright and beautiful and _edible_ , and there’s no way John’s unplugging those lights now. Instead, he walks back to Sherlock, straddles his outstretched legs, and gives him a quick, chaste kiss. Sherlock sighs into the kiss, then starts squirming beneath him, frantically trying to free his arms. John gives him a wicked grin.

He leans down again, cupping Sherlock’s face in his hands as he gives him a long, lingering kiss, his tongue curving around Sherlock’s as he pulls lightly on his hair. Sherlock whimpers into his mouth, reaching up to pull John closer, then makes a frustrated sound as he realizes his arms are still bound in lights. John pulls away, sucking on Sherlock’s bottom lip as he goes, then whispers in his ear, “How about we have a little fun before we have a _proper_ Christmas?”

And Sherlock blushes as brightly as the fairy lights as he nods.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone else, like me did not know that trimming the tree was a thing, here is a helpful Martha Stewart article: http://www.marthastewart.com/274519/tree-trimming-secrets/@center/1009039/christmas-trees-ornaments#197313


End file.
